


Sugar Dates and Figs

by tisfan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [37]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Figging, Ginger root, Hand Jobs, M/M, Punishment, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Bucky is so good at being good that Tony rarely punishes him. But simple obedience isn’t what Bucky needs.When Bucky decides to go against the grain and act the brat, Tony has some ideas on how to punish him.





	Sugar Dates and Figs

**Author's Note:**

> for MCU Kink Bingo Square G5: BDSM Punishment

****Tony didn’t even look up from his work station when the door opened. Chances were good it was either Pepper with more work for him, or it was Pepper with a meeting request, or, very possibly, it might be Pepper wanting clarification on some contractual obligation or receipt and did Tony actually mean to donate that much to some obscure little science lab out in Wyoming?

He kept poking along, reading through the various proposals for the new grant applications, in between trying (vainly) to keep his inbox down to less than a hundred unreads and taking long sips of his coffee. He thought about getting up to snag a donut. Bruce had actually brought them in, and then put them in Tony’s office to avoid temptation. Pepper had been stealing them all morning, so perhaps it was Pepper coming in to get another donut.

Footsteps stopped in front of his desk, so… maybe Pepper was going to scold him about the donuts, because if he was counting correctly (and he was Tony Stark, his math was always right) that was the last of the donuts.

What he wasn’t expecting was a pair of heavy, male hands to drop into his desk.

Tony startled and looked up to see his boyfriend, Bucky, leaning over the desk, very predatory.

“Hey, babe, you’re very sneaky,” he said.

Bucky chuckled. “I knocked on the door and you said to come in, dunno how much less sneaky I can get without hirin’ a big ol’ brass band.”

“Brass band might not even get my attention,” Tony said, leaning back in his chair so he could admire his boyfriend. Bucky was dressed casually in tight jeans and a maroon and grey striped shirt that was straining to contain broad shoulders and impressive biceps. “It’s just been that kind of day. What’s up?”

“I can’t stop by just to say hi to my best guy?”

“Well, theoretically, yes,” Tony said, watching as Bucky prowled around the desk until he was seated on Tony’s blotter, one hand pulling the desk chair closer until Tony was bracketed in the sprawl of Bucky’s thighs. “Just, you usually don’t. I believe the last excuse was that you were allergic to legal briefs.”

“Am,” Bucky said, “but I took a benadryl.” He leaned in and kissed Tony, light and easy.

The castors in the chair were so good that even that minimal movement was enough to slid Tony backward. Backward was wrong and not good, so Tony grabbed a handful of those amazing thighs and rolled himself back.

Bucky continued to kiss him, teasing inside Tony’s mouth with a skilled, clever tongue, hands roaming into Tony’s hair, down his back, until Tony pushed the chair away and stood. He tucked himself into the vee of Bucky’s legs and necked with his boyfriend until they were both breathing hard. Bucky’s hair was a sexy tangle around Tony’s fingers, and somewhere in there, Bucky’d loosened Tony’s tie and was mouthing greedily at Tony’s throat.

Bucky slid his hands down Tony’s back, then cupped his derriere. “God, you have th’ world’s best ass,” Bucky swore, nipping at Tony’s collar.

“As always, feel free to appreciate it,” Tony said, breathless, sticking his tongue in Bucky’s ear. (The tongue in the ear thing, Tony totally didn’t get it. It made him want to raise his shoulders and cringe, but Bucky always purred like a kitten.)

“Oh, I do,” Bucky said, using his grip on Tony’s pockets to pull them even closer together until all Tony could feel was Bucky’s heat surrounding him, the hard length of Bucky’s cock against his hip, and he was just starting to wonder if he could get away with fucking his boyfriend, spread across his desk when the door opened again.

“I knocked!” Pepper squeaked, holding up a stack of files to cover her face. From what Tony could see of her ears, they were as red as her hair.

“Note to self, install a doorbell,” Tony muttered. “Seriously, didn’t hear you, I was--”

“Preoccupied, I noticed,” Pepper said.

Bucky untangled himself with obvious reluctance.

Since Pepper hadn’t immediately turned around and shut the door behind her, it was obviously more important than Bucky’s embarrassment or Tony’s raging boner. “What is it, Pep?”

“They’re here,” she said. At Tony’s blank stare, she clarified, “the reps from Project Pegasus. Your one o’clock meeting?

“Oh, fuck.” Or more precisely, _not_ fuck. Tony took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “I forgot.” He stared up mournfully at his boyfriend. “This is important.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said, hoping down from Tony’s desk. A quick shake of his head and Bucky looked almost perfectly composed, except for his red and kiss-swollen lip. “I read your schedule. Have fun, doll.” He leaned in, kissed Tony’s cheek lightly. “I’ll see you tonight.” There was a little extra wiggle in Bucky’s walk as he moved toward the door.

Tony was just realizing that Bucky had done this on purpose -- ensured that Tony would go to a critically important meeting with a stiffie -- when Bucky paused by the door. “Oh, donuts, thanks!” and he stuffed the last pastry in his mouth and left.

“He ate my donut,” Tony whined.

“I can order some more for the meeting, get them delivered,” Pepper offered, trying and failing miserably to hide a smile.

“That’s not even the point--” Tony gestured. “He… this… ate my donut!”

“So it seems.” She paused. “Is he in trouble?”

“Oh, I would think so,” Tony decided. He straightened his tie, checked his pants -- closed, if a bit tight -- and took a deep breath. “Brief me on the way.”

***

Tony adjusted himself _again_ as he got out of the elevator.

He was old enough that he hadn’t walked around with a stiffie all afternoon, but Bucky’s left the scent of his cologne on Tony’s shirt, and a purple love bite against his throat (Tony’d noticed that after it was itchy and he went into the men’s room to take a look.) and a sent a few suggestive texts throughout the day.

Just enough to keep him at a low grade of arousal.

Especially when the meetings were boring; finance never interested Tony quite as much as the science.

And further, when he’d gotten a flash of annoyance. Bucky’s texts were keeping Tony on edge, and he almost wanted to just turn the phone off and ignore him for the rest of the day with a brief _that’ll teach him to_ \--

Tony’s brain had made the jump, then.

Bucky wasn’t being annoying by accident. He’d planned this. All of this.

Bucky was being a _brat_.

He was _looking_ to get punished.

Tony’s body went up in flames and it was all he could do not to utter a breathy little moan right in the middle of the presentation.

When Tony finally -- finally -- got back from that interminable meeting and found Bucky’s leash on the downstairs table, he grinned. So… Bucky was waiting for him, was he.

Tony picked up the leash and thumbed the remote access in the handle; upstairs, Bucky’s collar would lock with the distinctive whirr, and Bucky would know playtime had started. Tony wondered how long he’d been up there, waiting.

Was he already naked, or was he stripping hastily? Had he prepped himself and was ready for a good, hard fuck, or did he want to start slow?

So many questions.

Tony was eager to find out.

He had to contain his interest, though. Bucky wanted to be punished, so Tony had to punish him. Bucky wasn’t nearly as impatient as Tony was, however. So, waiting didn’t always get him the desired results.

 _Anticipation_ , however…

Tony shuddered all over. There’d been something he’d been meaning to try anyway, and now seemed as good a time as any.

He checked the fridge; when it had occurred to him to try, he’d made an adjustment to the grocery list to have it delivered, and then sort of forgot about it, but that shouldn’t matter once he’d peeled it, right? So long as Bucky hadn’t done something like cooked with it… where would he be if he were a--

Ah! Found it.

Tony put the required item out on the counter, checked the size, and looked for any visible weakness. It was a longish chunk, and that was good. Tony poked around in the drawer until he found a paring knife, and layed that on the counter as well.

Then he went looking for his very bad sub.

Bucky was on the floor in their bedroom, kneeling, hands at the small of his back. He’d stripped partially, still wearing a thin, white tank and a pair of delicate manties, pink, with white lace. Tony’s eyebrow went up. Bucky didn’t often break out the lingerie, either, and when he did, he preferred either black, or to blatantly wear Iron Man colors. The pink and white, delicate, innocent…

“You’ve been _really_ bad,” Tony speculated. “Want to tell me about it, sweetheart?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up, startled, and then his head went back down, until he was practically bent in half, forehead on his knees. It was beautiful submission, Bucky’s back was a lovely curve, his form was relaxed, but ready to spring to action as soon as Tony said the word. Except for Bucky’s jaw, which was clenched so tight that _Tony’s_ teeth ached. Bucky swallowed hard.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

Again, that little check, like Bucky was reading the emotional weather of Tony’s face. Slowly, he nodded.

“Tell me, then, pet.”

“Sir, I--” Bucky risked a third glance up, but whatever he saw reassured him enough that he kept his chin up. Sometimes Tony liked it when Bucky was forbidden eye contact, but mostly not. He liked to be able to read the emotions, the flickers, and of course, Bucky’s brilliant blue-grey eyes were among his best features; beautiful, expressive, with thick eyelashes. “Ain’t enough, sir.”

“What’s not?”

“Th’ punishment, Sir,” Bucky said.

It was on the tip of Tony’s tongue to protest; Bucky didn’t need punishment, he always submitted so beautifully that Tony was in awe.

But it wasn’t about Tony, was it? It was about what Bucky needed. Bucky _submitted_ , he was sweet and docile and did everything Tony asked, almost without Tony even needing to ask it.  

Tony put one hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Acting out, then? Feel like you need a little special attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll get just what you deserve,” Tony told him. “And maybe a bit beyond that. You were really awful today --” Tony ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, petting him. “You ate my donut. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

Bucky shivered obviously under Tony’s hand, all eagerness and pressed against Tony’s thigh. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re not, now. But you will be.”

Bucky’s breathless whispered, “Thank you sir,” might have gone unnoticed, if Tony hadn’t been paying strict attention.

***

Bucky was trying, he was trying so hard. Not to be good. Being good was easy; it had been conditioned into him to submit to whatever was being demanded of him that he went, without complaint. On his knees, open his mouth, whatever it was that Sir wanted, as soon as Sir wanted it.

He submitted, and Sir got what he needed, and that was good.

But Bucky wasn’t getting what he needed.

Which, he was used to, really. And maybe, if he hadn’t watched Tony get there, maybe Bucky wouldn’t want it so badly.

Tony was a bratty sub, when they switched it up.

He was cheeky and disrespectful and somehow so gleeful about being so, and making Bucky drive the lessons home again and again (and he was gleeful and eager about the lessons, too) that Bucky wanted that.

Tony was so beautiful when he let go, and Bucky didn’t know how, anymore. He didn’t let go because he wasn’t _holding_ anything.

He wanted… things that he didn’t have names for.

Things he didn’t know how to ask for.

He wanted to be good, he needed to be good.

But he also needed to be _bad_.

He needed to be _punished_.

He needed to be punished even if he was good. Maybe even _especially_ if he was good. Needed to be indignant about it, to remind himself that he had _dignity_. Needed to be broken, so he could remind himself that he was whole. To be forced to do something against his will to remind himself that his will and wants mattered.

There was probably a paper in there for some budding psychology student.

Didn’t matter.

He thought, for a change, he was actually going to get what he needed, which was deeper and darker and harder than the things he only _wanted_.

Sir had strapped him down, bent over the A-frame bench with his ass on display, legs and arms spread, blood rushing to his head. Had teased him with light touches until Bucky was wriggling, eager for more. Had yanked those pink manties down and lubed his hole, penetrating just a little, just enough to slip in a small plug, then tucked everything back inside and _walked away_.

Sir hadn’t left the room; Bucky could still hear him moving around, but he was out of Bucky’s line of sight.

Sir sat, still out of sight, no matter how much Bucky craned around in his limited movement to try to figure out what he was doing. The wiggling around in his bindings made him more aware of the plug in his ass, the way blood was pounding in his head, probably making him red-faced. His hair was in his eyes, in his mouth. “What are you doing, Sir?”

“Uh, no,” Sir said. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

Bucky shut his mouth with a snap; silence was not usually a thing Sir asked of him, and he bit down on asking a question, but that would be-- he gritted his teeth, and went ahead. “Excuse me?” He left the honorific off purposefully, trying to tempt Tony into… something.

“Bored, are you, sweetheart?” Sir asked with a chuckle. “That’s seven minutes already, so, keep talking, if you want.” There was a sharp smell, suddenly, sweet and spicy. It reminded Bucky vaguely of Christmas somehow.

Seven… seven minutes of what? Why? “Sir?”

“Eight. And that’s in addition to your ten minutes for stealing my donut,” Sir said. “I’m told the efficacy of this punishment only lasts for about twenty minutes or so, and then I have to re-cut. But I will, if you want.”

Bucky let his neck relax, hanging there in his bonds. Eight extra minutes. For… _talking_. He was getting a minute per word. That was easy math.  

He kept his mouth shut and Sir laughed again. “Figured it out, did you? You’re very quick, even if you’re being very stubborn today. Don’t worry, I’m almost done here.”

The smell got sharper. Pretty, actually.

“Gonna give you a little sample here,” Sir said, and he got up, coming around to the bench, touching Bucky’s skin, stroking his thighs. He nudged a few times at the plug, tapping it to send vibrations deep into Bucky’s body. Bucky moaned, but didn’t say anything.

“Good boy,” Sir said. He tugged the manties down again and pulled out the plug without ceremony.

Bucky craned his neck, trying to see, wiggling in his bonds.

“You’re going to get just five minutes here, as a sample,” Sir said. He penetrated Bucky with his finger, testing the muscle. It burned a little, still tight, the plug had been really small, and then-- he slid something into Bucky’s hole, slick and about the same size as Sir’s finger. A little cold, and Bucky hissed. The muscles in Bucky’s ass clenched up a little, his rim tightening.

“You probably don’t want to do that,” Sir said. He pulled the manties back up, patted Bucky’s ass fondly, and walked around to the front of the A-frame.

Bucky scowled, not being certain what was happening. Was it a vibrator, or-- and what had that smell been about.

Bucky opened his mouth to complain, or question, or _something_ , when the delicate skin inside his ass tingled. It wasn’t much of a tingle, less even than his lips felt when he smeared peppermint chapstick over them. Maybe Sir had gotten some of that menthol lube, that had been--

The tingle didn’t stop; it grew instead, going from tingle to itch to stinging in rapid succession as whatever it was warmed up. He sucked in a shocked breath.

“Time starts now,” Sir said, and Bucky heard the click of a stopwatch. That had to be for his benefit; Sir could see the clock.

Bucky shifted, trying to ease the sting, and the plug shifted with him. All that did was moved the stinging inward, deeper. He clenched, hissing, and the stinging went molten. Everything burned, suddenly, aching and deep. A conflagration.

Bucky hissed and clenched his teeth. The fire burned, ached, and everything inside his ass fucking _hurt_.

_Get this goddamn thing out of me!_

He couldn’t talk, Sir had told him not to talk. He could code out, or he could endure. Those were his choices and it had been such a long time since he’d even thought about making it a choice that the torment in his head was almost -- not quite, but almost -- as great as the one in his tender hindparts.

Every breath burned, every twitch and movement, the fire followed him. A groan built up behind his teeth, and he teetered on the edge of a scream.

“Time,” Sir said, clicking the stopwatch. He crossed behind Bucky again. “Just a second --” Down came Bucky’s drawers again, and stretched between his thighs. There was a brief tug, and then…

It didn’t quite stop the instant the plug was removed, but the pain and burning decreased greatly as soon as it was gone, and within a few moment of panting and shuddering, everything seemed pretty… well, normal, aside from the occasional throb and ache from his muscles protesting.

“You can speak now, if you want,” Sir said. He moved, out of Bucky’s line of sight, and the spicy smell got stronger again. “I’m just peeling it fresh for you.”

“Sir? What-- what is that?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Hmmm? This? It’s ginger root. Not just for stir-fry anymore,” Sir said. “Doesn’t actually hurt you--”

“The _fuck_ it doesn’t!” Bucky exclaimed.

“Sir,” Sir chided gently.

“Sorry, sir,” Bucky muttered.

“I’m serious,” Sir said. “Although I suppose more accurately would be, it doesn’t _harm_ you. There are no physical burns or cuts or anything. It just burns. I could leave it in there all day, and tomorrow you’d be just fine. For that matter, even a normal human like me, I’d be fine. I mean, it loses its potency after the juice is all dry and you have to re-peel it about every twenty to thirty minutes. Or I could just make a bunch at once, and you wouldn’t even get any down time.”

Bucky made a soft, whimpering noise in his throat.

“Interesting thing,” Sir went on, “if you clench down, it burns worse. So, you know, if I was to spank you at the same time, you’d be forced to choose, between having the spanking hurt worse, or the burn get to you. Or, you know, both. Both could happen; you’d clench up involuntarily, and whammo!”

Bucky was panting for breath just thinking about what a paddling would do, with that horrible thing inside him.

“Also, just in case this fact is also entertaining; you can pare just a little bit down, pretty small, and it works really well as a sounding-cap. Can you imagine what that would be like, having that fire in your dick? And it stops just as soon as I pull it out. Pretty fascinating, right?”

No. “No, Sir,” Bucky squeaked. “No, I don’t think that’s interesting at all.” He was squirming again, just thinking about it.

His ass ached, a little, empty and the muscles twitched and clenched without him being completely aware of it.

“There we go,” Sir said, and the scent of the ginger was immediate and fresh, almost overpowering, and Bucky was disturbed, a little, at how nice it was. It smelled really, really good, but he was starting to have _associations_ with the scent. “Oh, don’t clench up already, sweetheart.”

Bucky took a few deep breaths and tried to force himself to relax. It wasn’t so bad, he told himself, not that--

 _Fuck_ , it started up right away, without even the little tingles to ease into it. Sir clicked the stop watch. “Eighteen minutes.”

God, Bucky was going to die, he was going to fucking _die_.

Sir nudged the little plug back into place, and that time, left Bucky’s drawers hanging around his thighs. “So very pretty,” he said. Bucky’s legs started quaking as he fought not to clench up, knowing it would just burn that much hotter.

Sir reached around Bucky’s hip and stroked his cock, which, neglected, had flagged quite a bit. He couldn’t help but respond to it, groaning and greedily pushing into Sir’s hand. There was just enough of the ginger on Sir’s hand to leave little trails of fire along his shaft, but they evaporated quickly.

He thrust into that warm, welcoming fist, trying to distract himself from the inferno his ass was becoming.

Sir was watching, too. Too closely, Bucky scowled. He got close, really close to coming, and then Sir took his hand off Bucky’s cock and squeezed his asscheeks together, turning the burning into a goddamn interior volcano.

Bucky screamed, struggled, swore, and spat.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Sir said, gleefully. He waited until Bucky settled again, whining almost continuously, and then started again, stroking and teasing until Bucky was getting close again.

If Bucky had ever had a sense of timing, it was gone.

There was nothing there but pain and pleasure.

He didn’t even know when he started begging.

He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for; for Sir to get the piece of ginger out of his tender, smoldering ass, or for Sir to let him come, but either--

Somewhere in there, the agony and ecstasy reached some sort of crescendo, somewhere on the very edge of perdition, and Bucky hovered there for a long, impossible moment before tumbling off.

Everything inside him tightened, and he clenched involuntarily, and then held it, because there was no way, none, that he couldn’t squeeze when he came, and-- oh, god, the fire, his whole body was on fire, and it burned everything in its path. His sense of self and dignity, his fear and his anger, until he was nothing, nothing at all, except a thing.

A thing that existed for Sir and Sir’s pleasure.

He screamed as he came, probably the most intense orgasm of his life, bar none, and he couldn’t stop twitching when it was done.

“There we go,” Sir said, and finally the brand was removed from his ass. A few puffs of air over his aching, gaping hole helped cool him off. He hung limp in his bonds, panting and whining. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky couldn’t even raise his head. “Like my ass is smoking,” Bucky said, then, “sir.”

“Do you think you need any more punishment?”

Bucky almost blurted no immediately, then bit down on it. His head was quiet, and he was trembling with exhaustion. He might be able to fuck his boyfriend and then curl up with him and actually sleep for several hours without stirring. He felt… clean, in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. “If you want to, sir,” he said, voice trembling. He didn’t think he _needed_ it, but if Sir wanted, then Sir should have it.

“I think you’ve had enough for one day,” Sir said. He walked around and unfastened the wrist cuffs. “Come on. I’ll take you to bed and be nice to you for a while, and then you can blow me, does that sound good, honey?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, decisively. “Yes, Sir, it does.”

“And next time, don’t eat my goddamn donut,” Tony said. And it was Tony again, and Bucky practically collapsed into his arms, a shivering mess.

“No, no, I won’t,” Bucky promised. 


End file.
